“I don’t mind making breakfast, but if you could help with dinners…”
“Sure. Do you have certain kinds of foods you prefer over others? Or anything I should avoid?”
“I’ll eat whatever you make. I’m not picky.” If Miss Wright cooked, he’d take whatever she made. It was no easy task coming up with a well-balanced meal every night.
He worked on his eggs, ravenous after his workout. “Do you want juice?” He’d filled Charlotte’s glass but hadn’t thought to ask Miss Wright if she wanted some.
“I’m good with coffee, but thank you.” She ate a few bites of her eggs, checking on Charlotte often.
His niece was, as usual, quiet, but not solemn—a nice change.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen, then pushed away from the table, ignoring the twinge of regret that his breakfast would get cold. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”
“Of course,” Miss Wright said.
She was very agreeable. Worse than that, the flash of attraction he’d felt for her when he’d first seen her on his doorstep hadn’t been an anomaly. Something about her drew him like metal shavings to a magnet.
He needed to be very careful to keep her at arm’s length.
He connected the call, stepping out the back door onto the patio. The cool morning air was tinged with the scent of rain. “Hey, Richard.”
“Have you seen the latest issue ofCoastal Virginia?”
“Sure, sure.” Noah leaned against the railing, watching a seagull soar against the bright sky. “I was clipping recipes and tearing out decorating ideas last night. You know how I love the ladies’ magazines.”
Richard chuckled. “I sort of figured you didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“They’ve named you the region’s ‘Most Eligible Bachelor.’ Congratulations,” he deadpanned. “Your picture’s on the cover—that photo from the charity gala last spring.”
Heat crawled up Noah’s neck. He’d gotten a call about their annual feature, but he’d declined the interview.
“I thought they’d respect my wishes and leave me out of it.”
“They’re reporters. Your refusal probably just made them more interested. There’s a whole sidebar about how you’re raising a child alone. I assume that’s part of the allure since nobody knows who Charlotte is. You can imagine all the juicy gossip going around.”
Through the kitchen window, Noah watched as his niece spoke to Miss Wright, who seemed engrossed in the conversation.
Charlotte hardly ever spoke to anyone. How had the nanny done that?
Something about the scene—the domesticity of it, the way they already looked like they belonged together—made his heart do weird things.
“That’s not all,” Richard continued. “I heard there was police activity at your place the other day. What happened?”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“You know how news travels around here. Folks love a scandal.”
That last word plucked Noah’s spinal cord like a guitar string. “There’s no scandal. Someone broke in but was scared off by the alarm.”
Even as he said it, he remembered those footsteps. Whoever it’d been hadn’t been too scared to take at least a few steps into the house. What had they been after? What had they deemed worth the risk of getting caught?
The most precious treasure in the house was sitting at the table eating eggs right now. Surely, nobody was after Charlotte.
“Must’ve been jarring,” Richard said.
“Nothing was taken.”
